House With a Picket Fence
by TinAlbert
Summary: Quinn and Rachel are together, and very happy, even if the other students aren't very accommodating. Just a wee bit of fluff, K plus I think! All reviews, the good, the bad and the ugly, welcome!


**A/N – This is my first uploaded fanfic, part of the 101 prompt challenge! Feedback, the good, the bad and the ugly, all appreciated! Shout out to PenTheHeart cause she's awesome and dedicated a story to me, plus she wanted to read this!**

House With A Picket Fence – Faberry

The slushie burned ice cold as it dripped its way down my face. Cherry red fell from my chin, and stained my shirt - I should've known better than to wear white.

Turning my head to Rachel, I could barely stand to look at the pained expression on her face as she tried to act unfazed by the sting of her own slushie attack. The two idiots holding the cups snickered and high fived each other, then pushed past us, tossing a couple of insults over their shoulders for good measure – Something about dykes, or carpet-munchers, nothing very imaginative.

Azimo and Karofsky were the two responsible. At least, I thought they were, as the slushie dripping down into my eyes made it hard to see faces clearly…. Too bad my eyesight was still good enough to make out the passers-by laughing to each other.

There was a time when a single glare from me would have sent these cretins running away with their tails between their legs, hell, only a few months before Azimo and Karofsky were bending over backwards to please me! Nobody messed with Quinn Fabray back then.

But back then, _I _was the one holding the slushie cup, and more often than not it was directed at Rachel. Looking over at the beautiful girl holding my hand as we stood dripping in the middle of the corridors, I knew that given the chance, I would never go back to the way things were. I may once have been Quinn Fabray, HBIC, but now I was something far better – Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry's girlfriend, and I wouldn't change that for the world!

Rachel had gotten her expression in check, masking her emotions behind a veil of contempt, but I knew her too well. Judging by the way she was clinging on to my hand as if it was the only thing keeping her standing, the girl was about one insult away from tears, and I wasn't about to let that happen.

Grabbing Rachel's hand, I dragged her into the nearest bathroom. Rachel normally kept a spare set of clothes in her locker in case something like this happened, and ever since my first slushie attack after coming out, I had begun to do the same. Unfortunately, our lockers were nowhere near this toilet. We would have to go get them later, probably after the bell had rung so as to avoid any more confrontations. All we could do for now was to clean ourselves up as best we could.

Rachel was shivering, the cold of the slushie getting to her. Splashing some water into my face and rubbing my eyes, I stood in front of her and took her hand. Then, promising myself that I can get cleaned up later, I lean forward and kiss her softly. Her lips were freezing, and I could taste the sweetness from the drink on them. Pulling back, I squeezed her hands in comfort, then kissed her again, this time merely a peck on the forehead.

Rachel's jumper was clearly beyond saving, the white wool was dyed almost completely pink by then. Motioning for her to take it off, I ran a paper towel under the tap and folded it up. Carefully, gently, I began to wipe down Rachel's face. She closed her eyes – those, beautiful, calf-brown eyes that I loved so much – and relaxed her shoulders.

Gazing down at the girl before me, I had to smile. Rachel truly was beautiful; with her thick, brown hair and full lips, she reminded me of some kind of noble queen – An image slightly marred by the child-like blouse that she was wearing, but even with her awful fashion sense she was still stunning.

But not only was she beautiful, she was _mine._ I almost laughed in wonder when thinking about it; Rachel Berry – mine! Azimo, Karofsky and the rest of the idiots at McKinley meant nothing, not when I had a future with Rachel Berry.

I could picture it so clearly; A cosy house in the suburbs, with a white picket fence, two little children – one blonde, one brunette – and a garden out back, everything calm and peaceful. Rachel would be a Broadway star, I could write, and music would fill our house.

The dream filled my head and began to develop, images of all of our possible different futures running through my mind. Its beauty cleared away the pain of the slushy, leaving only Rachel and I, and when she opened her eyes and looked at me with nothing but love, I knew it would one day become reality.


End file.
